All That's Left Behind
by TheRoseShadow21
Summary: Because despite everything, there is some place and some way that they will be mourned. (One-shot collection, sort-of canon compliant, rated T to be safe)
1. Inounoshishi: Diverging Paths

**So I was just going to upload all of the oneshots of this collection in one go as I've mentioned wherever I've posted a request for help with this fic, but it's still going to take me a while to finish the Dragon/Snake, and I'm excited enough by there now being a Juuni Taisen category here that I changed my mind. So here's the first three one-shots for now, and the rest will be uploaded...eventually (because this is just a side project).**

 **There's a longer author's note at the bottom of this explaining the inspiration for this fic and other stuff. You don't need to read it if you don't want to. So anyway, on with the first one-shot of this collection!**

* * *

There was nothing particularly special about Toshiko Ino's funeral (or the wake the day before) save for it being incredibly lavish, but all the same Yuuka quietly observed every little detail, from the cut of the clothes the guests were wearing, to how much condolence money was offered by the guests, to the different flower arrangements offered. She would not be so rude as to actually write her notes here and now but all the same, from where she was sitting immediately behind what remained of Toshiko's family, she observed everything, mentally mapping out the article she'd be writing afterwards once it was over. It was par the course of being a reporter in high society, and it was not as if she hadn't done it before. Families like the Inos were well known, their exploits something everyone wanted to know about. And in any case, the Inos had asked for her, specifically, to be the one to cover their oldest daughter's last rites, because if it had to be done, it was better that it was someone from their general circle-and Yuuka was just that.

Still, she could not help but feel guilty.

The thing was, Yuuka was on the borderline of the circle that was allowed to know the precise circumstances of Toshiko's death, the specifics of the battle she'd walked into but not out of. She knew that it had been the _Juuni Taisen_ , that particularly special once-every-twelve-years occurrence, and that only Toshiko's bones and her machine guns that had been returned to the family, but little more than that. _But I know enough to know that all her father cares about is that she's let them down by not winning it,_ she mused as she got up to join the queues of guests _._

To be sure, he was here, solid as he stood next to his sobbing wreck of a wife. But Yuuka knew it was only because of tradition, of protocol. If he felt any grief, any love for his dead daughter at all, she couldn't see it. And she'd looked, at both the funeral and the wake. She'd looked, because Toshiko's father was so much like her own (she knew, because the few times she'd ever interacted with Toshiko in life, it was over their fathers and their tastes in clothes that they'd bonded), and she wanted some indicator that she was still loved. But she hadn't seen it. Even her mother's crying seemed to be more because it was expected than because of anything genuine.

 _I suppose it's a mercy that she gets a funeral at all, tradition or not._

Nearing the casket, Yuuka passed the parents, and murmured her condolences as she searched Toshiko's father's face once again for something, anything that would indicate that he cared. And once again, she did not see it. But when he thanked her perfunctorily, in his deep gravelly voice, she caught something that gave her pause, but before she could dwell on it, she had reached the head of the queue, and it was time to put her bouquet down.

Since there were only bones in this casket, it had been closed, and the flowers were being tucked around a large portrait of Toshiko instead. For a long, long moment, Yuuka looked at Toshiko's perfectly made up face, arrogant smile shining out. In life, beyond draconian fathers, prominent family names and highbrow fashion sense, Yuuka hadn't seen much common ground between her and Toshiko. But now, she saw it all. They had been tall, considered attractive by others, fair haired, single-minded in what they'd chosen to do with their adulthoods, they'd been older sisters (though thankfully, Yuuka's little sister was still alive and thriving). _It could have been me._ If any little moment in her life had gone differently, it could have been Yuuka who'd been sent into this battle, Yuuka who would have come back only as a pile of bones, Yuuka whose parents reactions existed at two opposite extremes with little actual feeling. _It could have been me._

 _So, I'll make sure that this article about your funeral is the best thing I've ever written, Toshiko-san,_ Yuuka said in her head as she placed the flowers down and bowed at the photograph. _I'll do their mourning for you in their stead. I-_ she hesitated in her vow as she straightened, but then she looked at Toshiko's face again, and her determination solidified once again.

 _It's a promise, Toshiko-san._

And then, the moment she was able to leave the funeral service, she left to make good on that promise.

* * *

 **((It might be weird to imagine a newsarticle about someone's funeral services, but the general idea is that Yuuka's working for a publication that's akin to a posh and very exclusive celebrity magazine-basically the type of thing that details all the births, deaths, marriages and any other scandal or milestone in the lives of a particular circle of distinguished families. Either way, this fic idea wouldn't have worked without the whole reporter angle))**

 **Anyway, so about this collection. Essentially, it occurred to me that not many of the Juuni Taisen characters are particular loved. Not in the sense of by fans, but in the sense of people in their own lives, even in the case of those who have families. Which would mean that most of them wouldn't be mourned, or even have anyone who might even care just a little about the fact that they're gone. In most cases, there just seems to be no indicator of that. And honestly, even though many of the characters have done horrible things, and some are just downright horrible people, that is something that struck me as really sad, and really unfair. So I decided to try and think of the different ways in which that each character's absence could be mourned, and write about them so that they are grieved-to basically 'fix' this unfairness. After all, one of the functions of fanfiction is to try and 'fix' things you don't like about the canon, right? And also, writing things that relate to the aftermath of a series' events in some way is kind of my thing.**

 **Anyway, there will be a one-shot for each of the warriors (Dragon and Snake are likely to be 'grieved' in one chapter though), and each of them are short-ish (not including any author's notes they'll all be under 2000 words but they all vary widely in that range). Each is from the POV of either an OC, a place/abstract concept, or a character who canonly exists (this is the case for Dokutsu's and will be the case for Sharyu's, Hitsuji's and Nezumi's and probably sort of Tora's). They're all meant to be able to fit into the canon of either the novel or the anime or both, but could potentially be AU too. They are also meant to take place relatively recently after the character's deaths, so a lot will center around funeral services and things like that. Additionally, chapter titles will all be in the format of [warrior name]:[title of story], the obvious example being this chapter.**

 **So, I'll leave it at that for now. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you'll like this fic collection overall. And please leave feedback!**


	2. Dokutsu: Tears With No End

"Are you alright, Emi-Chan?"

Emi blinked up at her uncle as they came to a stop outside the large gates.

"I…I think so." She said hesitantly, though she tried to be confident and smile at her 'uncle'. Daddy would want her to try to be strong, she knew it. _I'm trying, Daddy, I am._

"We can always visit another day, you know. He wouldn't mind."

"No! I want to visit Daddy!" Emi demanded, her nervousness about entering a cemetery for the first time disappearing. She couldn't not come.

"Okay, okay!" her uncle held up his hands in mock surrender. "So, shall we go in?"

Emi nodded silently, and grabbed her uncle's hand tightly, and they walked through the gates. As he led her to where her father was buried, she looked around at all the different gravestones, wide-eyed. She'd never been in a cemetery before, and she'd certainly never really thought about being in one before. Certainly not to visit her daddy. She didn't really remember how it was exactly that her daddy had come to become her daddy, though she did sometimes have some scary dreams about it, but to her it felt as if he'd always been her daddy, and because of that she'd thought that he'd always be there. She'd been used to him going away for work things from time to time, but he'd always come back. _I thought this time would be the same, too…_

"Alright, here it is."

They stopped in front of a tall, clean stone, the letters of her daddy's name newly carved on it, some flowers already placed at the bottom. Emi tugged her hand out of her uncle's to trace the characters. _Michio Tsukui,_ she knew it said. That was her daddy's name. _Daddy…._ Emi knelt down right in front of the stone, still touching it, trying not to cry. _Daddy…_

"You can cry if you want to, Emi-Chan." Her uncle murmured quietly behind her.

"But…." _But I already cried at the funeral, lots and lots as if I was a baby._ She barely even _remembered_ the funeral, she'd been crying so much. She'd managed to be calm for the overnight vigil, which she'd insisted on even though everyone said she was too young to do it. But the funeral itself, she'd cried all the way through it. _I can't cry here too, Daddy would want me to try and be brave._

"It's not babyish to cry if you're sad, if that's what you're worried about." Her uncle said softly, as she sensed him kneel next to her. She didn't look at him.

"But Daddy…." She trailed off, not sure how to put what she was saying into out-loud words.

"If he was here, he'd say the same. He wouldn't be ashamed of you. "

"But if Daddy was here, I wouldn't _be_ sad!"

As soon as she'd blurted that out, she burst out into noisy tears again. She covered her face and curled up in a ball, and cried and cried. For a moment, she was embarrassed, but then the feeling disappeared. _I just miss you._ She cried as her uncle wrapped his arms around her, cried as he lifted her up and as they walked back home. And until she exhausted herself and fell asleep, she wondered if she'd _ever_ stop crying.

* * *

 **Quick note: As far as I'm aware Dokutsu's daughter hasn't been named anywhere in the canon, so I just made up a name for her here. Wherever the POV is a canon character, I am probably just making up their names because I don't think any of them have been named.**

 **Also, even if the actual _Juuni Taisens_ themselves occur every 12 years, the schedule for how and when people get selected for entry into them is hella unclear so I'm honestly kind of just winging it there and I'll plead AU if I'm offbase/not making sense there. **


	3. Niwatori: Fairy-tale

**True confession: this one is probably one of my favourites of the one-shots of this collection.**

* * *

For some reason, Tatsuya felt compelled to read the death announcements in the newspaper that evening on his way back from visiting Mayu, and found his eyes drawn to one in particular. _Ryoka Niwa,_ was the name of this particular person, and she'd died young. 26, which meant she had been only six years younger than himself and Mayu. There was no other information, save for a generic 'you will be missed' type message. There was nothing particularly special about this death announcement, and honestly, considering Mayu's circumstances, he wasn't in the mood to care about a stranger's family's pain. Yet, he still found himself drawn to the small box that announced this girl's death to anyone who cared to know. _But, why…no, wait._

 _That girl?_

Could it be? It had been such a long time ago, back when he was working shifts as a hospital porter to put himself through university. He hadn't been working on the night the girl had been brought in, but he was the next night, and everyone was talking about her. About how she had been found in utter squalor, standing with a bloody egg whisk and the bodies of her parents at her feet, dirt and injuries old and new all over her. The fact she hadn't said a single word, and seemed to be in a trance. She was a curiosity, a tragedy, an interesting story.

She'd been in the hospital for a long time, Tatsuya remembered. Her injuries and other infections had all taken a while to heal, and though she didn't say much, she did eventually talk. He heard that they'd tested her intelligence, and it was fairly within the ranges of what would be expected for a girl her age, despite how much she could not communicate to them. The dead look in her eyes had never quite gone away though, and she remained skinny even as she became more able to eat again. She never smiled, either, not that he ever saw, and who could blame her for that?

In his lowly position, he'd not really had contact with her, but he'd wheel a tray of food or spare hospital gowns or other things the nurses asked him to bring to her room, so he'd see her from time to time, sitting in bed, looking out of the window, thinking thoughts that nobody could get access to. In a hospital-even in the research department where the girl had been kept and he had worked- there was always a new crisis or drama, and her story did eventually fade into the hustle and bustle. Even so she was known to pretty much the entire hospital (not even just the entire department, but the _hospital_ ) for her story and because she'd been there for so long. He wouldn't be surprised if those who'd been working with him back then also remembered her, after all these years.

But what Tatsuya really remembered was seeing her in the hospital gardens, sitting on the stone bench, birds all around her, perching on her finger and her shoulders and sometimes even her head. She didn't seem afraid of the birds, and the birds did not seem afraid of her-quite the opposite. While the birds were never quite enough to make her light up, it was with them that she seemed most at ease. It seemed almost as if she'd _summoned_ them to her, because those times he'd come across the girl surrounded by her feathered friends, it looked like something magical, unbelievable, straight out of a fairy-tale, albeit a tragic one.

(He'd also seen various researcher doctors making notes on what she did whenever she was out in the gardens, and overheard some nurses and other orderlies like him speculating that she had some sort of special ability to talk to birds. He'd dismissed it as ridiculous.)

 _Was her name Ryoka Niwa though?_ Barely noticing the train fill up even more, Tatsuya stared at the newspaper. He was sure he would have learnt her name back then, but no matter how much he thought, he couldn't remember it. _Ryoka….that's pretty. I suppose it fits. But…._ he blinked, and sat up straight all of a sudden.

 _Of course._ Niwa was the name of the family, the one who'd adopted her. Just as he had been absent when the girl had come in, he'd been absent the day she was taken out of the hospital, and he'd come in for his next shift only for a fellow porter to inform him of the fact. The Niwa family were _loaded_ , he'd been told, an _incredibly_ powerful family, so the girl was really going up in the world by being taken in by them. _Yes, yes, now I remember._ Except he didn't, really. All he recalled was the sense of feeling pleased that someone would look after her, along with a silly, youthful sense of triumph over the fact that this fairy-tale seemed like it would have a happy ending. Other things had happened in the days following that-not just in the hospital, but in the rest of his life too-and thoughts of the girl who could 'talk' to birds had quickly left his mind. He'd never thought of her again, until now.

 _If this is her, then this fairy-tale didn't have a happy ending, after all, did it?_

Hearing the announcement for his stop, Tatsuya shut the newspaper-though he kept a finger in the page-and stood up, apologetically weaving his way through other commuters- _holy_ hell _, where'd they come from?_ \- to get to the door, and he wondered what to do with these memories. The death announcement hadn't left any information, sure, but if the family was the one he was thinking of, then he could easily search them up and contact them.

When the train came to a halt, Tatsuya was first out of the door, and he quickly made his way out of the station. Leaning against the wall, he opened the newspaper back to the page, and stared at the death announcement for another moment, before beginning to rip it out from the page, absently considering what he had to do next. _Pick Ayumi up from the babysitters', or convenience store first?_ Either way, he knew that the moment she saw him, the first thing she was going to ask was 'Mama home yet?' and he'd have to tell her that no, she wasn't. _One of these days, you'll have to explain that she won't be coming back at all._ He was dreading it, wanted to put it off a little longer. _So, maybe the store first, that way we can go straight home and I can get straight to dinner, so Ayumi won't have to wait too long…and, wait, what am I doing?_

Tatsuya stared at the piece of paper now in his hand, and suddenly became angry, clenching his fist and crumpling it. _What am I doing? Why am I dwelling on this girl from years ago? Mayu is_ dying _. I haven't got_ time _for fairy-tales anymore!_ Annoyed with himself, he flung the rest of the newspaper in the nearest bin and strode away quickly towards the convenience store. Dinner, the babysitter's, home and dinner. Figuring out how to explain to a two-year-old that her mother was dying. That was what he should be thinking about, not a random whispered story from his youth. _Mayu, Ayumi, they're all that matters,_ he stated to himself as he walked. _Forget her._

And yet, his hand still held on tightly to the piece of paper crumpled inside it.


	4. Sharyu: A Battle Of My Own

"So, what are you going to do now?"

Rin looked over at Seiichi, who was looking at him carefully. Not carefully in the oh-he-might-break way, but in the way of a good friend who didn't want to overstep his bounds. There were more than enough people giving careful looks of the former variety, and it was exhausting, fielding the worries of the people giving him those sorts of looks on top of everything he'd been doing for Misaki's wake and funeral. He supposed it was a step up from that one idiot who'd tried to point out that at least there was less hassle, what with there being no body to bury, but still, it was tiring. But not wrong. He did feel like he might break, and he'd had no idea how he'd managed to even stand upright all this time, when getting from one moment to the next had been such a struggle.

"I…I don't know." Rin admitted after a long moment, loosening his tie. _That could apply to the rest of my life, too, really._

"Ah. Well. Why don't you come out with me, we'll go grab something to drink? I can call Kazu and Hiroto too, they're probably off work by now, or it could be just us if you're not really up to too much company." Seiichi suggested.

"Well…." _I'm so tired._ The suit was uncomfortable, too. He just wanted to go home and sleep.

But home was the place he'd once shared with Misaki. The place he'd once imagined starting a family with her in, the place he'd been building a life with her. Sure, he was used to absences, because of what she did, but suggesting that this was the same as that was just as stupid as suggesting that handling the funeral had been easy because of the lack of body.

 _Or even that I should have seen this coming. Even though I did. Because I knew, didn't I? The moment the clock ticked past the time she'd estimated she'd come home from the_ Juuni Taisen _if it went well, I knew she wasn't coming back. But that doesn't make it any easier. It doesn't make home suddenly become home again._

"Rin?" Seiichi asked.

Rin blinked, and realised he hadn't responded.

"I don't know…sorry, Sei."

Seiichi's lips thinned for a moment as he pursed them, and turned away briefly. There was a long pause as he appeared to be considering something.

"You have food at home, don't you? Drinks?" Seiichi asked eventually, turning back.

Rin nodded cautiously, not sure what he was trying to suggest.

"Right. Then, how do you feel about seeing Kazu and Hiroto as well, generally speaking?" Seiichi continued.

"That would be good…." Rin admitted cautiously.

"Right then. I'll call them, and we'll come to your house. We'll eat and watch stupid movies or whatever, so you're not on your own thinking of Misaki-Chan by yourself all night. One of us'll kip on your sofa, too. "

"I…you don't need to. What about…?"

"Oh, Akari? Already told her that I might be staying with you, told her you'd probably be needing someone. I can tell, you know, that you're not dealing with being there by yourself. And anyway, it's not as if you've got anyone else, is it?"

Rin nodded slowly again, but didn't say anything. What Seiichi had pointed out was correct. Neither he nor Misaki had any relatives around, though in his case it was for the more mundane reasons of old age and only-child status whereas hers were more because of the whole raised-by-magical-monkeys thing. It was why he'd shouldered the funeral burden, and would have done so completely alone if not for Seiichi, Kazu and it had only been Seiichi who'd been able to stay with him for the services, the others had done a lot for him too-paving the way at work, checking in on him, warding off idiots, all sorts. _If I hadn't had friends at least, how would I have managed?_ It was too much to contemplate.

 _But, it's not fair to make you do all this for me._

"If that's not what you want or need, fine, okay, no probs." Seiichi said, shrugging casually. "But anything you do need or want, tell us, okay? We'll do it for you, it's no trouble. That's what friends are for, right? So let us help you."

 _I'm so tired. But….._ Rin thought of the note he'd tucked in his pocket everywhere he'd gone these past few days, the note in the pocket of his ill-fitting blazer right now: 'this is a battle too!'. Misaki had of course been referring to the pie that she'd made that night before leaving for the _Juuni Taisen_ , the one she'd left the note with. Yet now, now that she wasn't here, it felt like a descriptor of his life. Navigating all this emotion and learning how to adapt to life without her, that was a battle too. And it was a battle he needed comrades for. _That makes it okay, doesn't it? To let them keep helping me?_ Even if it wasn't, Rin had to decide to believe it, because that was the only way he would win this battle. That much, he knew.

So, he mustered all of his energy, gave Seiichi a weary smile, and answered:

"Well in that case, yes please."


	5. Hitsuji: Sacrifice

Yuzu startled as his bedroom door opened, but was relieved to see that it was just his father.

"Ah, you're still up, Yuzu?" he asked.

 _Isn't the answer to that kind of obvious?_ Yuzu just shrugged in response, and pointed at the screen of his laptop. His father frowned, and came into the room, sliding the door shut behind him. Standing behind Yuzu's chair, he leaned over and frowned.

"Oh, this is where you posted the message?"

"Yeah." Yuzu said. "Look, there are a lot of messages."

"I see that." Yuzu's father hummed a little bit as he read through. Yuzu pushed his chair to the side a little so that his father could get a better look, and waited.

"All these people who he didn't even know in real life, and they miss him?" he murmured eventually. Yuzu bristled a little.

"They knew him through the games! Look, so many of them say they looked up to his prowess."

"Yes, I noticed." Yuzu's father laughed. "I didn't mean to sound disapproving…it's just a little strange for me, that my dad became so popular online. It's such an unseemly habit for an old man."

"I know, right? And he used to be so _bad_ at those games."

Yuzu shook his head in amusement, remembering those sunny days on the veranda, games consoles in hand and laughter at every turn. _But Grandpa became good at gaming for me, didn't he? And he died because of me too, didn't he?_

"But you know Dad, it kind of makes me feel better, reading through all of this." Yuzu confessed, melancholy again as he gestured to the screen. His father turned to look at him, face unreadable for a good long moment. Then, he sighed.

"It makes me feel a little better too. It was a good idea you had, doing this. "

"I still miss Grandpa, though."

"I do, too. And we probably always will. After all, even after all these years, I still miss your mother."

At the mention of Yuzu's mother (a figure he barely remembered), his father straightened and stepped back a little, and Yuzu wheeled his chair back in front of the screen. He scrolled back up to the top, looking at the original message he posted-a short, generic message about how the popular, high-spending, high-earning gamer 'OldHitsuji' had passed away after a long life. No mention of any war, let alone the _Juuni Taisen_. Some things were not for the wider world to know, after all.

"Hey, Dad?" Yuzu asked after a long silence.

"What is it?"

"You know how Grandpa…how he went in my place? To protect me, because I was still a kid when I was selected?"

"Yes?"

"I think…." Yuzu took a deep breath. "I think, when I'm a grandpa myself, or even a dad, if my children or grandchildren get selected for another _Juuni Taisen_ , I'll do for them what Grandpa did for me."

 _So that they can be happy and safe, with childhoods spent out on the veranda in the sunshine, full of laughter at every turn. Just like my childhood._ Because it wasn't until Grandpa had died that Yuzu had really understood that this was the reason he had done what he'd done. And so, eventually, after much thinking about it, after the wake and funeral and cremation were done, Yuzu had come to this conclusion, this realisation of what he needed to do with that sacrifice.

But once he had said it, he didn't dare to look at his father, to see his reaction. So he stared at the screen, so hard that the words eventually blurred, and let the silence fill the room. Until eventually, it was broken by a footstep, and another, and then a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder.

"He'd be proud of you." His father said softly.

Yuzu swallowed, and mustered up the courage to look up at his father. He looked down at him, eyes sad but mouth smiling softly.

"Really?" he whispered.

"Yes, really." The smile widened a fraction, and he took his hand off of Yuzu's shoulder. "Now, it's getting late, so you should go to bed now. Okay?"

Yuzu wanted to roll his eyes- _I'm hardly a child anymore!-_ but didn't, because he knew that his father's concern came from the same place as Grandpa's sacrifice: love. So he smiled and nodded.

"Okay."

* * *

 **So, I read the available chapters of the manga on VIZ recently, and one of them seemed to suggest that Yuzu (as I've called him) would have been 24 in the 12th _Juuni Taisen_. Since I'd been under the impression that the grandson was younger before that, and I'd already written this before reading that, I've decided that here, Yuzu was selected while he was still a child/teenager, and that Hitsuji decided to take his place both because he was so young at that time and for family-protecting reasons, and that Yuzu only discovered this much closer to the time, as an adult, and tried and failed to protest it (as seen in the manga) without being aware of the reasons. I added a couple extra lines in the end to take this stuff into account (prior to manga reading I was operating under the assumption that Yuzu would be a teenager at the time of the Juuni Taisen) but apart from that I kept this as it was because it worked pretty well. So this would probably be one of the more AU-leaning chapters in this collection. **

**Anyway, I hope you liked these next two chapters, and as always, please leave feedback!**


	6. Uuma: New Life

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 **Guest ('Sacrifice'): Not sure what you're saying 'yes' to, exactly, but thanks for the review regardless! :)**

* * *

Naoki was tired, and just wanted to go to sleep, but he had one more thing to do before he could retire for the night. _Still, compared to everything I've been doing this past few weeks, this should be easy._ So he walked up to the door, and knocked on it. After a moment, there was a response.

"Come in!"

Naoki opened the door and entered the room, and took the time to close the door carefully, before turning to the woman in the bed and the man sitting on the chair next to her. And, of course, the baby in the woman's arms-the reason he was here in the first place. This child, born just hours ago, was the newest member of the Soma clan, and more significantly, the first child to be born after the previous chief's death. The first new child since Naoki had become chief. A momentous occasion, indeed.

"Good evening, Chief." The man said.

 _Chief. Ah, I'm still not used to that._ Naoki didn't let that feeling through though, instead opting for a placid smile and a simple nod.

"Good evening, Kenji-san, Hana-san." He responded simply. "Are you doing well?"

"Yeah, we are. Aren't we?" Hana cooed this last question down towards the baby, tightly swaddled and apparently fast asleep. Despite clearly looking exhausted, the smile she gave to her child was radiant and full of love.

"It's a girl, isn't it?" That was what he'd been told, when the news had been conveyed to him.

"Yes, that's right." Kenji confirmed. "Please, come over, Chief. Don't you want to have a closer look at her?"

"Well, of course." Naoki complied, and peered down at the tiny face of the newest member of the Soma clan. The face was small and round, eyes screwed tightly shut, and he could see the beginnings of a tuft of raven-black hair. Her hands were delicate, clenched into determined fists.

"A pretty child. She looks quite a lot like you, Hana-san." Naoki eventually commented.

"See? I told you!" Kenji said triumphantly. Hana sighed and shook her head, though she was still smiling.

"Yes, well….I know you can't see them now, but even if she does resemble me, her eyes are Kenji's." Hana told Naoki, who simply nodded at that, as he quickly imagined Kenji's gold eyes in this child's face. _A pretty child, indeed._

"So…" he started awkwardly, before pausing to clear his throat, and starting again. "So, does she have a name, yet?"

"Ah….well…"

Kenji and Hana exchanged looks with each other, and Naoki watched them curiously, trying to figure out what that meant. Eventually, it was Hana that spoke up.

"Well, initially, we were thinking of floral names. Something like Sakura, or Sumire. But now….if it's alright with you, we'd like to name her for the previous chief. 'Yoshimi' is quite a nice name as well, and it works for a girl. And…well, even despite the manner in which he died, he was good as a clan leader, and as a person, wasn't he? "

"I…uh, yes. Yes he was." Naoki agreed. _See, Yoshimi? See. You were fine as you were._ But it was too late for such regret.

"So? What do you think, Chief? If you're not okay with it, then it's not a problem." Kenji said quickly. "We just thought it'd be a good way to honour him."

Naoki nodded to show he'd heard, but didn't say anything as he thought about it. This was such a small thing, but suddenly it felt like the biggest decision he'd had to make as a chief. _To have someone want to name their child for you….you'd have been so honoured, right? But would you have said yes, or would you have felt too unworthy to accept the honour? Even though you_ were _worthy?_ He let out a breath, and thought of the former chief, his old friend. Though the news of his cowardly death in the _Juuni Taisen_ had lowered his reputation somewhat, the silent, gentle giant had been a good leader, and had left behind a very large void to fill. _And I'm doing my best, and I'll keep doing my best, but I don't know if that's enough._ So, letting out another breath, he made his decision.

"Please do."

The joy on Kenji and Hana's faces was visceral.

"Thank you, Chief!" Kenji said.

"Hear that, little one?" Hana murmured to the infant, who was starting to stir. "Your name is Yoshimi."

Yoshimi's eyes opened, the intense gold focused on her mother's face. Naoki knelt slightly, and reached over to touch one of her tiny hands. The hand opened under the touch, becoming a starfish for a brief moment before grabbing the tip of his finger and holding on. Her eyes moved from her mother's face, and looked at Naoki, seeming to quietly assess him.

"Oooh, looks like she likes you." Kenji laughed.

Naoki smiled back at Kenji, then turned back to look at Yoshimi, still staring up at him and holding onto his finger for all it was worth.

"Welcome to the Soma clan, Yoshimi." Naoki said quietly. "I'm the leader, Chief Naoki. I promise I'll do my best to take care of you, and your parents too, okay?"

Yoshimi made an expression that looked a fair bit like a smile, and in that moment, Naoki knew that he had made the right decision. And, perhaps, most importantly, that he'd be okay.


	7. Tatsumi Kyoudai: Devastation

**As some of you might know, I had a lot of trouble coming up with ideas for this chapter, let alone writing it. But finally, it's done. So, I'd like to give a b** **ig huge thank you to 'luluisweird' on Tumblr, and 'Shirou Fujimura' and 'gkazumi' over here on FF for suggestions that helped me to write this chapter. It helped so much!**

 **And now this one is up, the rest should come fairly quickly, by the end of the year at the very latest, though I am aiming for Christmas Eve ideally, given all the remaining chapters need is proofreading. Then I just have to find the time to upload them. But yeah, if the last chapter isn't up by Christmas Eve, it will be by the end of the year.**

 **Anyway, I'm gonna leave some rambly explanations about how I came up with this idea at the bottom of this. If you want to read those feel free, but you can skip if you prefer. But putting that aside, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

The church looked like home to Talia. Sure, she had never seen a church quite as nice and well-kept as this one in her home country (in fact, she'd never seen any building that had such clean white stone walls as this one had, not as far as she could remember). But after spending the last few months constantly on the go, crossing countries and oceans to get here, the gleaming white building looked so much like home to her.

 _Maybe…I could go inside?_ For the short eighteen years she'd been on the earth, only two things had offered her any real comfort in her life-the almost-mythical heroes she had come to this country to search for, and churches like this one. The door was slightly ajar, and she could just about make out the sounds of a reverend reciting something -though her scattered Japanese knowledge was nowhere near enough to understand what it was he was saying-so it sounded like there was a service going on. It didn't matter to her though: she'd snuck into many services back home, squeezing into shadowy corners and letting herself feel safe as she listened to the sermon or the hymns of that day. She could surely do the same thing here.

Yet, she hesitated, feeling exposed as she stood by the large wrought iron gate, aware of the odour of her clothes and the dirt embedded in her skin. She'd managed to remain unnoticed as she'd snuck from the port and further into the city over the past few days, but the longer she went without proper shelter or even a place to wash, the less possible such evasion was. So rather than attempt to sneak in, she crept towards a thick bush close to the building, and crouched right down next to it, and looked up at the building.

 _It's so beautiful…_ Now she was closer to it, she noted the wooden door, the golden door handles and the carvings above the door. They looked like a snake and some other serpent. _I think…a dragon, maybe?_ She knew that dragons in the East looked a lot different to the dragons depicted in the stories of her country. _Yeah, that's a dragon._ She'd noticed the two animals on the wooden sign outside, a black-on-white logo above Japanese characters which presumably spelt the name of the church. These other ones, carved so deeply, didn't have any colour to them either, but there was something that reminded her of them. The heroes. There'd been something in their yellow-y eyes that had seemed serpent-like. That had been so many years ago, but she still remembered them clearly.

 _My heroes._

Talia stuck her hand down her t-shirt and felt for the secret pocket she'd sown in there, and then pulled out what was inside it, and smoothed it out carefully, almost tenderly, before looking down at it. All the money she'd managed to gather that day had been spent long ago-frittered on alcohol by her parents, stolen straight out of her hands by other villagers, whatever was left used to feed and clothe herself and her sisters. But this one note, of the smallest denomination the two heroes had tossed out that day, she'd kept it safe all these years, as a piece of tangible evidence she could hold onto whenever she doubted that all the stories and rumours she'd heard about those men were true. _This, this is my hope._ It was why she'd chosen to make her way to Japan rather than America or England like all her friends had done when left with no other choice but to flee home.

 _Are you here, good thieves?_ Gripping the old note tightly, she looked up at the carvings again, the yellow eyes of the two men flashing in her mind. _Will I find you here? I hope so, because I really need you._ Shakily, Talia got back up again, filled with an unexpected courage, and she tentatively edged her way to the door and peered around it. The interior of the church was roomy with large stained-glass windows that let the light in, with cream coloured walls, wooden floor in a warm shade of brown, and shiny pews made from a similar material. It was nicer than any church she'd been in back home. The sober-eyed old priest stood at the front in full garb, and for some reason, next to him at the alter there were two open boxes in mahogany with many floral arrangements tucked in them, a photograph of two people (though she was too far to make out any identifying features) propped atop them.

The pews themselves were packed with people, all dressed in black or other dark shades, all of them with sad, drawn expressions-a few even sniffling or looking slightly teary-eyed-as they listened to the words the priest was saying. _Wait, a funeral?_ The mournful lilt of the priest's words did sound like they could be a funeral hymn or poem. But it wrong-footed Talia.

 _They're mourning? My heroes are mourning. I know what that's like. How can I pester them at this time?_

 _But you don't even know if they're here or not,_ a little voice in her head pointed out as she thought that, making her pause. _This might not even be their church in the first place. They might not even_ go _to a church._

After a moment's more hesitation, Talia sighed silently and decided to stay. She could at least look and see if she could spot them at all. They'd probably look so different after over a decade, but she was sure she'd recognise them instantly anyway, her memories were that vivid. So, keeping to the shadows and making sure her footsteps were silent, and holding onto the note as if it were a talisman, she crept further in, scanning the church for anybody who looked like they could be one of the brothers.

 _I wonder what the boxes are,_ she wondered idly as she searched. _They look a bit like coffins, but there can't be a body in them if they're packed with flowers, right? And why would a coffin just be left at the front like that? Do Japanese churches do things differently to other ones?_ Getting closer to the front, and still not seeing anyone who could be the people she was looking for, she glanced again at the arrangement at the front.

And she froze.

Now, she was close enough to see the details of the photograph. It was a candid portrait of two people, somewhere outdoors if the blue of the background was any indicator. Both were men, possibly thirty or so but youthful with it. One of them had his arm around the other (who looked a little non-plussed even as he smiled at the camera) and was grinning widely. The grinning one wore a light brown t-shirt, while the other wore a pale blue shirt with the top button undone and the collar slightly crumpled. But apart from that their appearances were identical-pale skin, narrow features, short lilac hair, and slight shadows under their eyes. Their yellow, serpent-like eyes. There was no mistaking it. The funeral she'd snuck into was for the very people she'd been hoping to find.

Instantly, tears spilled freely and silently from her eyes, and she shook uncontrollably, staring at the photograph in shock. _That's…that can't be. That can't be. How can you both be dead, heroes? You were so invincible and fearless. You can't be dead._ But this was a funeral, and they were the people in the picture. There was no getting away from it.

Still shaking. Talia turned to leave, but found herself stuck, unable to move her legs or tear her eyes away from the faces of her heroes. _What do I do now? Where am I meant to go_? _How do I continue on? Who will help me now?_ As the questions spun and spun in her mind, her knees suddenly buckled and gave way. The note fell out of her hand and dropped to the ground, but she barely noticed as she fell to the ground and blacked out.

* * *

 **(Now time for the rambling. Feel free to skip!):**

 **In a manner of speaking, this one's about two sorts of grief, since I incorporated suggestions that basically could be boiled down to two different categories-the order that Snake and Dragon belonged to, and someone who was affected by their 'charity', someone who didn't have any idea of their true nature). So I decided that the viewpoint would be from someone who was helped, and that the setting would be related to the order. Hence, Talia searching for her 'heroes' in her time of need, finding their church, only to walk in on the funeral being held by the order for those very people. It also makes this fic one of the more 'immediate' ones, where it's about someone discovering the deaths, which makes it similar to Niwatori's, but it's also more intimate because Talia's grieving starts when she walks into part of the grieving process, wheras Tatsuya's happens at more of a distance. I did vaguely consider starting this fic closer to where it ends, by having Talia wake up after fainting and then reveal what led up to that, but eventually I decided doing this way felt more natural. Though as I'm sure you can tell, ending the story was a touch difficult.**

 **The order as shown in the anime looked a bit like it was related to the Church in some way, but it also seemed to be very clearly based in Japan, so I decided that the order's funeral rituals would be a combination of Western-type church funerals and Japanese funerals. However, since there were no bodies for the order to bury (Well, there were ice crystals, but that's not really the same, is it-and what protocol would you apply to ice anyway?), I've had floral arrangements placed inside the coffins rather than on top like they normally would be in both types of funeral (though having them set at the front like that is more a Japanese thing). Still, given that the narrator here is in an unfamiliar land with unfamiliar customs, I've deliberately attempted to make it seem more strange and confusing than such blending might otherwise be.**

 **And speaking of familiarity, I decided to not name a specific country that Talia could have come from, and tried to make it seem as vague and applicable to as many places as possible, and I tried to choose as un-indicative a name as possible. I'm not sure 'Talia' was the perfect choice based on this but it was the best I could find. But the reason for all that was simply because this short fic wasn't really the place to explore the wider issues of Talia's life more closely, not without further research which, again, would have been beyond the scope of this particular little story.**

 **But yeah, this chapter was pretty challenging to complete for all sorts of reasons, but now it's here, and I am glad of that.**


	8. Usagi: The World Turns

**This is one of the 'weirder' ones that isn't from the viewpoint of a person, but more the place (and in this case, animals). The other one that will be like this is Ushii's.**

 **I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

At a single glance, there is nothing that looks particularly different about that field. The grass grows, people walk across it and occasionally stop to picnic on it from time to time, and the rabbits that populate the field happily hop over it whenever they come out of their warrens, seemingly without a care. There is no reason to think that anything is different here.

Yet, if someone were to look more closely at this field, and particularly at those rabbits, then they might realise something was wrong. Because those rabbits, they weren't hopping around without a care. No, they were searching. Searching, and keeping a look out. Sometimes they'd hop right up to a human visitor as if happy to see them, but quickly turn tail halfway there and go back, and a careful observer might speculate that they looked dejected, disappointed when they do this, but would probably dismiss it as fantasy and go on with the rest of their lives.

But, they would be correct.

Because those rabbits are waiting for someone. A male human, with floppy white hair and eyes like their own, who always came to them. A human who communicated through those weird human mouth noises that the rabbits could never make sense of, and who didn't understand the language the rabbits used. A human who came to them because to the others of his kind, he was too weird, too threatening, too other. That human visited these fields to see the rabbits who lived here a lot, and even though they shared no common tongue, no common experience, somehow they learnt to understand each other. The human considered them his only real, living friends, and the rabbits essentially adopted him as their eccentric, other-species family member. They all looked forward to the human's visits, and came to expect them.

They have been waiting for days, now, and he still hasn't come. Some of them are starting to think that maybe he'll never come back. That perhaps something happened, that one of his predators hunted him, or one of the humans who hated him decided to hurt him. They're starting to realise that they're waiting for something that might never happen. But in their small, green world, that's a hard thing to fathom.

So they will continue to wait.

And in the meantime, the rest of the world will turn, and nobody else will realise what has changed.


	9. Tora: Too Little, Too Late?

Keiko grabbed the skirt off the hanger, stepped into it and pulled it up to her waist, sucking in a breath as she zipped it up. _I'm not as young as I used to be. On the other hand, I should be grateful I've been able to become old, unlike Kanae._ Grimacing as she thought of her niece, she got her shirt and shrugged it on, ridiculously relieved that she could still button it up easily.

Leaving her wardrobe door open for the moment, she moved over to her dressing table, and studied her crisp white shirt and black pencil skirt. She pursed her lips, then tucked in the shirt carefully before grabbing her brush and hair clip and sitting down on the chair next to it

While she did, her eyes wandered to the collection of photographs on the bookshelf. All of them were milestones of her personal and military lives, so she was the focus in many of them. But it was not all these snapshots of her different selves in time she was looking at, but at those of Kanae.  
Kanae as a little baby, in the arms of Keiko's sister-in-law, her brother standing next to them and looking oh-so-proud. Kanae striking a childish fighting pose with her cousins and friends in front of the dojo. Kanae standing outside her house with her parents, grinning in her brand-new school uniform, so excited about her first day of school-that photo, Keiko had taken, and she could still hear the six-year-old Kanae's giggles and questions echoing in her head. Kanae on a bicycle, her form made blurry because of the motion. Lots of Kanae in pretty dresses and kimonos at various formal events throughout her childhood and adolescence. A casual photograph of a teenage Kanae, laughing with a small cluster of girls her age, all in the same school uniform-Keiko couldn't remember how she'd gotten her hands on that particular picture, but under the circumstances she didn't care about that. In practically all of them, Kanae was smiling sunnily, her eyes were bright and full of life, and she was just so clearly the daughter that Keiko's older brother had wanted her to be, the embodiment of the Aira family values.

And then there was that last photograph, of Kanae at the award ceremony, a grown adult. Yet her eyes were dull and clouded, the smile stupid and vacant, she was barely standing straight and clearly showing the signs of the alcoholism that she'd been developing for years by then. _Nii-sama kicked her out soon after that,_ Keiko recalled. _That was the straw on the camel's back._ Keiko hadn't protested when she'd found out, because she hadn't seen any reason to. Kanae had strayed off of the path so badly, she didn't deserve to be taken back, and it was as simple. _That's what I thought back then._

"But, I was wrong, wasn't I?"

Keiko said this towards all the photographs of Kanae. Neither the drunken woman version of her, nor the many incarnations of the bright smiling girl offered any answer. But Keiko didn't need any answer from her, not when she already knew it: _Yes, we were_ all _wrong._

 _But I only realised it now. Only now, when I should have realised it before you went, when you literally crawled in that night and begged us to let you be the one to represent us in this_ Juuni Taisen _, with a soberness you hadn't had for years by that point. But even before that, we should have realised it. That you were in pain._

"I'm sorry." She said to the photographs. "I'm sorry that we didn't realise it sooner, Kanae. "

And once again, the photographs offered no response, and Kanae's smiles simply stared out at her. Shaking her head, Keiko put her brush down, and turned her head this way and that to make sure it was presentable, before she put in her ear studs, slipped a respectable pearl bracelet around her right wrist, and strapped her watch-an old gift from Kanae, still working- around her left, before getting back up and returning to her wardrobe. She had to rifle through a moment, but eventually found her blazer, and she put it on, tugging at the sleeves slightly as she did so. Then, she looked down at herself. Putting aside her shoes, which she'd of course only put on once she was leaving the house, she was now fully dressed, and yet something was missing. Looking down at herself, Keiko frowned, trying to figure out what it was. She was perfectly presentable for a funeral, particularly since it was just an ordinary funeral, and not one with all the military pomp and circumstance that would usually be fitting for an Aira family member.

 _Kanae…_

Keiko's heart clenched again, and then, she had the answer. _Who cares, if this isn't a military funeral? Kanae was still a warrior._ With sudden purpose, Keiko strode towards her bed, and yanked open her bedside table drawer, and pulled out the slim black case. She set it atop the bedside table, flipped open the lid, and stared at them. _Nii-sama won't like this,_ she thought. But as soon as the thought entered her mind, she dismissed it. _That's not what matters._ So before she could _let_ it matter, she picked up the first medal, pinned it to her lapel, and then did so again and again, with each and every medal. And when the last one was hanging there, adding to the weight she already felt inside of her, she turned and looked back over at all the photographs.

"This doesn't make up for anything," she told them all. "I'm wise enough to know that. But…I hope you'll approve anyway."

But of course, none of the versions of Kanae answered her, so Keiko just had to hope that she did.


	10. Ushii: Hashitairo

The battlefields of the world have seen many things, many people. Some have only ever passed by, and the others have stayed for a while, making their lives in the battle fields. They have heard many battle cries, many whispered conversations and heated arguments, many promises made and broken and kept. They've seen people win and lose, try to escape or leap right into the fray, both the innocents and willing participants. Their soil has been kicked up by many pairs of feet, many buildings and trees toppled, many weapons and possessions thrown and left abandoned on their grounds. The battlefields have soaked up the blood of many, many creatures, both human and not. There is little that they have not experienced, as a stage of humanity's violence.

As such, loss is no new thing to the battlefields. Seeing so many abandoned, so many losing their lives, the battlefields have dealt with this for millennia. They have seen it too many times to care any longer, assuming that a battlefield of all things is capable of such an abstract human concept such as 'caring'. The battlefields just exist as the space where these things happen, and nothing more than that.

And yet….

And yet, the battlefields have noticed, the absence of one person. Of that one person who breezed through them as if walking down an ordinary street, felling enemies as if it was nothing. The one person who was called the 'Natural Born Slayer' or the 'Genius of Slaughter' by other inhabitants and visitors of all the battlefields of the world, a fitting title considering how seamlessly he appeared to fit into them. They have noticed that his footsteps no longer resonate on the ground, that the motion of his blades no longer cuts through their air on the way to felling another unfortunate, that his voice can no longer be heard. They have heard the whispers and the shouts of the other people, of shocked disbelief and even a little relief. On some battlefields, some people even incorporate his memory into their battle rituals, as if to hope to gain some of his prowess by invoking his spirit. Nothing escapes the battlefields, they've noticed it all. They know, somewhere, somehow, he has left this world and so will never grace any of them with his presence, ever again.

The absence shouldn't affect them. He is not the first legendary warrior to fall, nor will he be the last. Others will pass by briefly or make their lives on the battlefields, other battle cries will ring out, other whispered conversations and heated debates will occur, more promises will be made and kept and broken. Many will try to escape, or jump right in, both innocents and willing participants. The battlefields will continue to have their soil kicked up by pairs of feet, have their buildings and trees toppled, weapons and possessions will be abandoned on them. Blood will continue to soak into them. They will keep experiencing things. Whatever gap this person may have created in this world, it will quickly get filled.

And yet…

And yet, despite this, even though the ability to care is far beyond these places that are little more than a stage, they feel it, keenly. Like an ache, deep and dull, pulsing from the bottom of the hearts they do not have. The people who still visit the battlefields say that there has never been anyone quite like him, and that there probably never will be again, not for the rest of their lifetime. If the battlefields could speak, they'd probably agree. The absence, the loss of this natural, it shouldn't affect them. It is just one of many they've experienced. It is preposterous that the battlefields should do so something ridiculously human as to mourn. And so as each new day and each new battle begin, the battlefields remain as they are, the stage for humanity's violence.

But deep down in the heart they do not have, they know the truth.

* * *

 **A note about the title: It's the name of the Kujira no Kora wa Sajou ni Utau/Children of the Whales ED song. It means 'incomplete colour' (though I've seen it translated as 'half-cold purple'). I picked this as a title not so much because of, well, the song's title, but more because that song, to me, evokes the sort of mood this particular fic has. I actually ended up dropping Children of the Whales by EP9, but I love the ED song. Also I couldn't think up a better title for this one.**


	11. Nezumi: Aster tataricus (BONUS CHAPTER)

**Yes, this is a chapter for Nezumi. Even though he didn't die. I just thought it'd be interesting to do, and just as I've labelled it, you could always consider it a bonus chapter. In any case, as you'll soon see, this is AU for more reasons than the fact of Nezumi being alive in canon.**

* * *

Miho gathered up the piles of folders and prepared to leave the classroom when she glanced over at Tsugiyoshi Sumino's desk, and realised the small jam-jar of flowers that had been put there to commemorate his very recent death were now wilted.

"Oh. They're wilted." Miho observed aloud, as she felt herself wilt a little at the sight. _Why is it that I feel heavy thinking about him? Is it just because the news was so recent it's still a shock to me? I don't know…_

"Huh, what's wilted?" Eriko asked, frowning.

Miho simply pointed-as best as she could considering she was holding a pile of folders she could barely see past-and waited for Eriko to follow the direction she was pointing in.

"Ohh." Eriko propped her broom up against the wall, and walked over to his desk to pick up the jam-jar.

"Huh, guess we'll need to change these before going, then. But is there any point in doing it now? It's Friday, someone'll have to do it on Monday anyway."

"Of course there's a _point_!" Miho responded hotly.

"Woah, what's with the reaction? Is it because you were seat-mates? Or, no, do you feel guilty about rejecting him?"

"What?" It took Miho a moment to remember. "No! That was ages ago!"

 _That's nothing to do with anything, anyway!_

"It's just the right thing to do, that's all. It wouldn't be nice to leave them wilted all weekend, would it?" she responded, still a little flustered at Eriko's conclusion.

"Well, sure. I mean, I'm not sure he'd even _care_ either way, but whatever. Then, can you do it? I'm already sweeping and everything."

 _Well, yeah, sure, he probably wouldn't. But...maybe he'd appreciate it anyway? But even if he doesn't,_ I _care for some reason. Surely that's enough?_

"Yeah, sure."

Pulling herself out of the reverie, Miho started to walk over to the desk, before realising that she wouldn't be able to carry the folders _and_ the jam-jar at the same time. Letting out a sigh of frustration, she decided to leave the folders for now, and prioritise replacing the flowers. _Sensei can wait a few more minutes, surely? It's not like I'm doing anything frivolous._ So she dumped the pile on her desk, and then grabbed the jam-jar.

"See you in a bit, Eriko-Chan."

"Sure, sure."

Miho walked as fast as she could without running. Her plan was to go to see if the Gardening Club were still around and get replacement flowers from them. If not, she would just 'borrow' some flowers from the school garden, and message Suzuki on her class's group chat to explain that she'd done so. _Or perhaps I could ask one of the teachers if I could use some flowers from their pot plants in the staff room…but that would be a little awkward, wouldn't it?._  
Exiting the school through the back, she walked across the courtyard and through the short walkway to where the gardens were, and let out a sigh of relief when she saw that there were a few members there, busy working on the flowerbeds.

"Hello." She announced herself as loud as she could without feeling awkward.

One of the members, who Miho vaguely recognised as being a senior, turned around.

"Oh, hello. Did you need something?"

"I, um…I need to replace these flowers." Miho held up the jam-jar to show what she meant.

"Oh? Could it be, you're from Class 2B? Oi, Suzuki-kun!"

The sudden rise in the senior girl's voice almost made Miho jump, but it did attract the attention of her classmate, who was tending to flowerbeds slightly further down. He leapt up, and jogged over.

"What's wrong, Endo-san?" he asked.

"Sumino-kun's flowers are wilted." she explained, again holding up the jar. "Don't suppose you've got anything to spare?"

"Yeah, sure. That okay, sempai?" Suzuki asked the senior girl.

"Yes, yes, of course." The girl waved them away, and went back to what she had been doing.

Suzuki and Miho eyed each other awkwardly for a moment.

"So…well, give me that, I'll clear it out for you, you take a look round for whatever flower you want. Are you getting the same ones as these?" Suzuki asked.

"Huh? Oh, no, maybe something different." Miho responded after a moment.

"Eh, yeah, suppose it doesn't make too much of a difference either way. I doubt Sumino knew anything about flowers anyway. He was more interested in cheese, wasn't he?"

"Mm, I think so. Like when Kamiya-kun came back from France with those samples after the summer?"

"Yeah, like that. He got really excited about it, do you remember?"

"I remember." _It was one of those rare times he actually seemed interested in what we were doing in class._ " 'No two cheeses taste exactly alike', he said."

"What?" To Miho's surprise, Suzuki-kun stopped smiling and stared at her. "He never said anything like that. He just hogged all the cheese and thanked Kamiya for his good taste."

 _Huh? But I remember it…._ Miho thought back to that day when Kamiya had come in with the cheeses, and tried to figure out when exactly it was that Sumino had said that to her. But the more she tried to, the more it seemed to slip away from her. _Weird…_

"Oh. Never mind." Miho shrugged sheepishly, and held out the jam-jar.

"Yeah, take a look around and give me a yell when you find something you like, and I'll take care of this." Suzuki said, taking it and walking away.

Still a little unsettled, Miho walked over to the flower beds, and started to look at the flowers, examining each one carefully, and as she did she found herself thinking more about Sumino. She remembered when he'd confessed to her, now she was thinking of it. At the time, it'd been a simple, easy question and answer, and he'd seemed so unbothered and they'd gone back to being normal classmates that it had been easy for her to forget that it had happened. Yet now she was thinking back, she found herself thinking that there had been something more, that even if she would have ultimately rejected him, there were so many other ways that moment could have turned out. That there were deeper, more serious things Sumino had wanted to tell her. And much like she could have sworn Sumino had told her that no two cheeses tasted exactly alike, she felt like she remembered these, even if it was impossible to remember something that had never happened.

 _And, that's what Sumino was about, wasn't he? The possibilities._ Most conversations they had seemed to have these strange after echoes of different things that could have happened when she recalled them now. And Sumino himself had liked to talk about that sort of thing, about choices and different paths, and to Miho he'd sounded like he knew what he was on about. Like he was _made_ of possibilities.

 _And that's why I feel so strange, don't I? Because they're all gone._

Miho's train of thought skidded to a halt as she came across a spray of light purple flowers, all with many small petals, sort of like a daisy. Curious, she bent down and took a closer look, before straightening back up and turning around.

"Suzuki-kun!" she called.

"Coming, hold on!"

A moment later, Suzuki was next to her.

"Found one?"

"Yeah. What's this?" she asked, pointing to the flower.

"Oh! _Aster tataricus_! "Suzuki exclaimed, earning a blank stare from Miho.

"Aster _what_ now?"

" _Aster tataricus_. _Shion_." Suzuki clarified. "They have a meaning of remembrance. Or, specifically 'I won't forget you'."

 _Yes, that sounds about right._

"Yeah, then a few of these, please."

"Sure thing!"

Suzuki snipped a few for her, then placed them carefully in the fresh water he'd poured in the jam-jar, before handing it back to her.

"There you go, Endo-san."

"Thanks, Suzuki-kun."

After bidding him and the senior girl goodbye, Miho dashed back to the classroom as fast as she could without spilling or dropping the jam-jar.

"Took your time, didn't you?" Eriko teased (though not unkindly) as Miho came through the door.

Miho murmured a non-committal response, and crossed the room to Sumino's desk and gently placed the jam-jar in the middle of the desk before stepping back to regard it. _Ah, that's much better, isn't it?_ She smiled for a moment, and grabbed up the folders again, ready to take them down to their teacher.

"Oh! What flowers are those?" Eriko asked, just noticing.

" _Shion_." Miho paused at the door. Thought about pronouncing the Latin name, but decided it was better she didn't for fear of mangling it.

"Oh. They're pretty."

"Yeah, they are." Miho agreed, continuing on her way.

 _And maybe there's a possibility that somewhere, somehow, Sumino-kun can see them too._

* * *

 **And with that, this collection is finished! I do hope you enjoyed it! I will be mostly returning to focusing on my ongoing DR fic now this is done, but I do plan on writing other Juuni Taisen fanfics in the future. That, and I'm helping out on the 'Juuni Taisen: The Thirteenth Season' fic that Colton989 is doing, though I'm not doing the main work on that. So, yeah, I guess I'll see you around then, and thanks for reading!**


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